Dear Mom, It’s Sunday. I have a newfound appreciation for the expert way you’d wrangle Jenn, Tris, and I together to help us get ready—and yourself—to leave the house early enough for us to get to church on time… Whenever we’re the first ones ready, I hear you saying, “All your father has to do is get himself ready and he’s STILL the last one out!” I think I might have even said something similar to the girls today too… but about Nate. I thought of you. I wanted to go to church today, but at the same time, I had a feeling that Pastor Trent or the worship team, or SOMEONE would say something that would just set off the tears I’d been holding back. You know how I hate crying around people. I almost cried during praise and worship when we sang, “We’re gonna’ see a victory! We’re gonna’ see a victory! For the battle belongs to the Lord!...” The last time we sang that song was two weeks ago, but it meant something different to me then. Two weeks ago, I was praying that song in my heart, sobbing at the altar for your healing. Last Sunday, Dad, Jenn, Tris, and I were at the funeral home making plans for your burial. On the surface, this Sunday didn’t feel like we’d seen much of a victory—at least not in the way I prayed for. I felt bad for even thinking that. I almost wrote out a prayer request not to be mad at God for not answering my prayers the way I believed He would. And then, the musicians started playing a song Machaela introduced me to months ago that she heard in youth group that really spoke to me. Do you remember “Way Maker”? I had you listen to it before. And played it for you in the hospital. And again, at your funeral service. I had never heard the worship team play it before during Sunday service, but they did today. Part of it goes like this:
Way maker, miracle worker, promise keeper Light in the darkness My God, that is who You are Even when I don’t see it, You’re working Even when I don’t feel it, You’re working You never stop, You never stop working You never stop, You never stop working
“Way Maker” – Leeland
I don’t know why God chose not to work a miracle in your healing here on Earth. I know that I’ve felt betrayed—like He broke His promise… and I still struggle with that emotion sometimes and have to remind myself that even though I don’t always see or feel it, He’s working in our lives. They played the song again at the end of service too… I really needed to hear it again. And this time, as I sang with my eyes closed, trying to hold back tears… I felt such a warm, compassionate hug. I didn’t even have to open my eyes to know which of my church sisters it was. And I’m telling you, Mom, that if nothing else, I needed to be there today for that hug. And that song. And for Pastor Trent to talk about the importance of praise—even when you feel like you’re stuck in a rut, or in a pit… surrounded by darkness. In the midst of it all, sing praise. I’ve been noticing a lot of things about myself lately that remind me of you. Even some of the things I never used to understand—or even be slightly irritated over as a kid… guess what… I do them too. Like today, after church… after we got home and the girls started audibly getting on each other’s nerves… I heard you doing that thing you’d always do when Tris and I would argue and your patience was running thin… the casual prayer voice… “God, give me patience with these WONDERFUL children You gave me…” except I was the one saying it. And they were the ones looking at me like I had twelve heads. I get it now. It wasn’t easy raising three girls whose personalities tended to clash at the most inconvenient times. If you prayed for me to be able to understand those struggles ‘one day’… I guess God answered that one because that’s about to be me too… Well played, Mom… well played. I miss you. Love always, “Pookie”
Kaleidoscopic Grace 